


the boy from the dream

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: :D, Basically harry tgoes back in time to save tom bla bla blaaaaaaa, Crack, Dark Crack, Harry is still a bean under that mean exterior, I rewrote it, Ill update tags as i go, M/M, Puella Magi Madoka Magica References, This Harry: I'm you but eviler, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Time Travel? More like Tom Travel hahahahaha get it, Younger Harry: Who are you?, but yeah, i am speed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-25 04:53:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21750346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “You don’t really care about me, do you?” Myrtle asks, wiping her glasses on her wet sleeves. She doesn’t bother lying to herself anymore. Harry Peverell, mysterious transfer to Hogwarts doesn’t give a buggering fuck about her. God, she was stupid to believe that he would care.It takes her a while to realize that Harry has started talking but she manages to catch a bit of his sentence.“..Tom.”“Tom? There are a few Toms, which one?” she asks, confused.“Tom Riddle. You were right. I wouldn’t care if you bled out right now on the floor. I’m only doing this for Tom. The basilisk would cause the school to be closed, therefore hurting him. So, if he really wishes to kill you…” Harry trails off. Eyes narrow and Myrtle is suddenly very aware of Harry’s sleeve.“..I suppose I’ll do it for him to make the job easier, right?”.(In which Harry pulls a Homura Akemi and goes back in time in order to change Tom's fate. But who is REALLY changing? Tom?Or is it Harry?)
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort
Comments: 19
Kudos: 152





	1. prologue

“You don’t really care about me, do you?” Myrtle asks, wiping her glasses on her wet sleeves. She doesn’t bother lying to herself anymore. Harry Peverell, mysterious transfer to Hogwarts doesn’t give a buggering fuck about her. God, she was so _stupid_ to believe that he would care. 

It takes her a while to realize that Harry has started talking but she manages to catch a bit of his sentence. 

“..Tom.”

“Tom? There are a few Toms, which one?” she asks, confused. 

“Tom Riddle. You were right. I wouldn’t care if you bled out right now on the floor. I’m only doing this for Tom. The basilisk would cause the school to be closed, therefore hurting him. So, if he really wishes to kill you…” Harry trails off. Eyes narrow and Myrtle is suddenly very aware of Harry’s sleeve. 

“..I suppose _I’ll_ do it to make the job easier, right?”

Myrtle freezes. What? She pulls out her own wand and aims it at him, although they both know nothing will happen. How? Why is Harry so...detached from everything around him? She should have been more suspicious. Now it's too late. Harry stares down at her as if she's simply an insect with no mind and absolutely no point in living. He takes a step towards her. 

One. 

Two. 

Three. 

"I'll try to make this not hurt, okay?" he hums, pressing his wand against her neck. Before he utters the curse, she holds up a hand and whispers in a feeble voice, "Before you kill me, I'd like to know something."

"What is it?" At least he's allowing her _this._

Myrtle pauses, before turning her head to the side to look for any rescuers. But there is no one. "I, um. Why are you doing this for Tom? And why Tom Riddle? I get it, lots of people love him, but he's not _that_ special, is he?"

The look on Harry's face is utterly mocking. 

"Oh, Myrtle," Harry starts, a hint of amusement in his eyes, making her believe that she's in on a joke that only Harry understands, "you really don't get it?"

He moves forward and in the mockery of a kind gesture places his hand on her head, patting her as he would a small animal. "Tom Riddle is _everything._ He makes me feel joy, happiness, love, anger, sadness, everything. I'd lost that on the way and it's the thought of him that guides me now." As if he's letting her in on a secret, he sits next to her and closes his eyes. "He makes me feel the pinnacle of all emotions. Do you know what it is?"

Myrtle swallows. She really has no idea. "What is it?"

"Love."

.

.

.

.


	2. Dream.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> eek

“Look at me.”

He’s running. He’s running away from someone. Something. He doesn’t know, but he knows that they’re dangerous. The floor looks different and the walls do as well. Hogwarts didn’t look like this in the morning, did it?

Deep inhale and Tom breathes in. Breathes in the smell of copper and the taste in his mouth. The feet behind him are persistent and if he doesn’t keep moving forward, he will be killed. It’s inevitable. 

He turns the corner and almost trips over the wand lying on the ground. What’s wrong with him? He’s almost a prodigy, so how did he miss the brightly colored wand lying against the black and white backdrop of the ground? He should have seen it.

Tom ducks and narrowly avoids the stunning spell thrown over his shoulder. His attacker must be pretty weak if he’s using simple spells like these. Still, he keeps moving. There’s no point in fighting; his spells won’t go through anymore and his core seems to be shut off. 

(“Tom! Tom — ”)

Further now. Further now. He’s almost there. Underneath his skin, a flare of magic comes alive. Now—!

Shuddering of his body. Tom is outside now, outside of the destruction and the pain. The door closes, though he doesn’t notice. 

(A hand reaches out, only to be pushed back by the door. “Tom—!”)

He allows himself to look tired for once; his ‘followers’ aren’t here and he’s alone, meaning that there is no facade he has to put up. It provides a sense of security, knowing that no one is there to throw slurs at him or look up at him frightfully. He takes a shuddering breath then raises his head, only to find—

A wasteland. Rubble thrown around, resting on the cracked ground. The trees loom ahead, tall and dark, while rivets of rainwater trickle around on the ground, solemn and slow, but Tom doesn’t really focus on any of that at all. No, his attention is on the figure in the middle of it all, resting on the sand as if it’s his throne. Curled into a ball, the figure doesn’t appear very strong. No, definitely not strong. 

The figure doesn’t stand, though he looks up at the sky. Once he does, Tom can finally see all of his face, from the cracked glasses to the trails of what seems to be tears and rainwater trailing down the sides of his face. It’s his bright eyes that make him focus, for he’s never seen eyes in such a brilliant shade before.

The boy reaches out and sobs quietly, choked and full of despair. His hand is trained on a bump in the sand, but when Tom looks closer, he realizes that _it’s a person._ A person lying on the ground, hands splayed out and eyes unseeing. The person seems to have silvery hair and glassy eyes, though Tom gets a feeling that her eyes have always been like this. Her hand looks like it had been clenching something, though there is nothing but an empty space there. The boy must have taken it. 

Speaking of the boy, he’s still not making a move to do anything. Instead, he simply hauls the girl up and wraps his quivering arms around her, closing his eyes shut shakily. He breathes in and his grip on the girl tightens. Then, he stands, the wind rustling his fringe and revealing a lightning bolt scar. It’s bright and irritated, red and bloodied. 

Tom can only watch in morbid fascination as the boy lifts the girl up and strides towards the bigger chunks of rubble. Upon looking closer, Tom realizes that there are _more_ bodies, all tortured and beaten, although their faces look peaceful. A pang of dread resonates through Tom’s chest. Who could have done this? Grindelwald? 

The boy places the girl down, next to the rest of the bodies and closes his eyes, knees buckling and falling to the sand filled ground. His hands clasp together, like the Nuns he’s seen in Church. The Nuns who insisted that he was to be rid of the evil inside his soul.

A dark shape rises from the shadows and moves into the light, revealing a girl with bushy hair and sad eyes. She mouths the words, “Do it,” to the boy. He shakes his head, but she moves forward until she’s next to him and places a hand on his shoulder. In a silent agreement, the boy raises his wand shakily and presses it to her chest, murmuring a quiet spell as a bright green light jolts out and slams into the ground. Her body shudders before falling backward. This seems to be the final breaking point for the boy; he screams soundlessly and burrows into the girl’s shoulder, sobbing as if it’s all he can do. Tom simply watches in shock. An Avada Kedavra? Who is this?

A hand reaches his shoulder and curls around it, gentle. He spins around, wand already out of its holster. He has the sudden urge to fire an Avada Kedavra at the hand as the boy had done, but before he can even say the words, the hand is gone. Instead, there is a book on the floor, thick and old, though there seems to be a certain aura to it. Dark and enticing. 

“ _Salazar?”_ he mouths, staring at the odd book. ((“Tom! Don’t—”))

“He’s doing it all by himself,” a voice says, loud. It echoes all around, like a godly being. Tom suspects it might be one. He spins around and stares straight ahead in shock, frozen in fear for one moment. But there is no one there. “We both know he’s going to die. Imagine the damage that will be caused if the person who did this faced off against him. He’s already at his limit.”

Tom doesn’t respond and the voice continues on. “But _you_ can change his future.”

Finally, he answers with a suspicious, “I can?” Disbelief is all over his face and for a good reason. He’s in Slytherin for a reason; he’s not going to trust this strange voice he’s never met before. This might be a completely different setting, but he’s still got the same mind. But the chuckling all around him makes him freeze in fear and for a moment, a stray thought lingers, nagging him. _Where is he in the first place_?

“Yes, you can. All the destruction can be stopped. All of the magical potential is inside of _you_.”

“What do I have to do?” he asks if only to end the conversation. Unbeknownst to him, the boy rises, an expression of determination on his face. He turns to face Tom, but his eyes widen in shock as he is pushed backward by an invisible force. His features contort, pained and frightened. Tom is still unaware, his back turned to the sight.

“Well?”

The voice chuckles. “All you have to do is open that book and take my advice!”

Tom gasps and shoots upright in bed, hunching over his body. Immediately his dorm mates all huddle around him, hands on his back and glass of water pressed to his hands. He takes it gratefully and raises it to his lips, taking a long sip of it. By the time he’s finished, his friends have moved back, worried expressions on all of their faces. 

Abraxas speaks first. “Tom? What’s...bothering you?” he finishes lamely, earning a jab to the stomach by Rosier, who in turn tries to appease Tom by answering with a simple, “We’re just _worried._ ”

It’s surreal seeing his once-enemies smile at him all nicely and attempt to take care of him. The first few years had been all aggressive comments on both ends. But when Tom discovered his heritage and rose to power everything changed. He made his own little circle of ~~friends~~ followers. They were loyal to him and helped in his goals, while he raised their status. 

It was a mutually beneficial relationship. 

“Tom?”

The boy in question simply slips out of bed and starts to head to the bathroom. “I’m fine. Nothing happened, it was simply an odd dream.” Not a lie. It was pretty weird. He slams the door behind himself and raises his head so he’s staring at his reflection. He looks...exactly the same. Tom sighs and splashes his face with cold water before drying off. 

The dream was most likely just that; a dream. Nothing more, nothing less. Just a dream. So, isn’t it better to focus on his plans and attempt to find the Chamber of Secrets?

Right? 

_Right._

_._

_._

_._

Breakfast is a simple ordeal. Like always, they wake up the earliest, making sure to get good seats at the table. Tom’s seat is always going to be different from the others; there is a silver and green thread wrapped around his. A way of signifying his power, he supposes. Still, no one questions him. Therefore, there’s no need to explain. 

“Tom, have you found more information about the...you know,” Rosier murmurs, spooning a cup of baked beans onto his toast. All of Slytherin makes sure to eat enough, unlike the Ravenclaws who eat by serving suggestions (weird). Tom takes a bite of his own food before answering. “No. I’m assuming _you’ve_ found something?”

“It’s a no for me as well,” Rosier announces sheepishly. “Sorry, but even _my_ library doesn’t have anything about it. Have you checked the restricted section yet?”

“Of course he’s checked it,” Abraxas cuts in, smearing butter on his bread. “He’s not an idiot….Right? Please tell me you checked it,” he finishes, staring at Tom with wide eyes, who in turn rolls his own. “I’ve checked it.”

“Oh, thank Merlin,” Abraxas exhales breezily, popping a piece of bread into his mouth. He chews for a moment before casting a look at Tom very directly, _judging_ him. “Tom. What have I told you about _vegetables_?”

“That they are important and that we should eat them every day,” Avery deadpans as he takes a bite of his eggs. Abraxas shoots him a glare of his piece of bread. “Is your name Tom?”

“No?”

“Then don’t answer his question. Now, Tom, do you remember what I told you about your vegetables?”

“Yes,” he answers, before trying to steer the conversation in another direction. Once Abraxas starts, he’ll never stop. But it’s too late.

“Then why aren’t you eating your broccoli?” Abraxas shrieks, slamming his hand down on the table. Avery flinches and everyone at the table pointedly ignores him. Now Tom is left to his own devices against the mother-hen-Abraxas. 

“I wasn’t hungry.”

“Eat. Your. Bloody. Broccoli!”

“Fine,” he snarls, pulling the bowl full of vegetables over to himself. He shoves it into his mouth and swallows the food whole, an angry expression still on his face. “Are you happy? Are you happy?”

Abraxas leans back and sniffs. “Very.”

“You’ll never guess what I just found out,” Orion starts, flopping into the seat next to Mulciber, who in turn continues to eat. “It’s so _sad._ And makes everyone sad. I don’t want to say it,” he cries out dramatically. “..But do you want me to tell you?”

“Yes,” everyone choruses flatly. Orion rubs his hands together. “There’s a transfer student.”

“That’s not very exciting,” Tom answers honestly. “Besides, we’ve been getting too many of them.”

“Right, but here’s his story: Apparently his parents died during a duel with _Grindelwald._ Yup, directly in the flesh. And _he_ took part in it! He traveled with his Godfather for a while until _he_ died. He’s also _insanely_ powerful.”

“Where’d you get all of this?” Lestrange asks. 

Orion shrugs. “I have my resources.”

“Yeah, me,” Yaxley cuts in. 

“Oh, shut up—”

“Hush,” Tom commands, and everyone falls silent. Walking into the Hall is a boy. A boy with green eyes, glasses, and inky black hair. Tom clenches his hand under the table. It’s him. The boy from his dream. 

“Everyone, please welcome Harry Peverell!” Dippet says, gesturing at the boy. 

Harry. A simple name, but fitting, at the very least. Peverell doesn’t even look over at anyone. Only walks towards the Sorting Hat with a perfected stride. Eyes downcast, he slides onto the stool and plucks the Hat out of Dumbledore’s fingers and places it on his own head. Then, silence. Silence for quite a while. Tom notices some of the students becoming agitated, while some of them whisper speculatively amongst themselves, like buzzing bees. 

Peverell’s mouth twists into a sneer. “Don’t you dare - ” he starts, only to bite off. He waits in silence, before letting out a quiet, “Of course.”

“Slytherin,” The Hat responds, voice slightly despondent. Peverell gives it a grateful nod before sliding off the stool and walking towards the infamous house of snakes. He doesn’t look shocked. He looks like he’s been expecting it all along. As he heads towards the table, Tom quickly raises his arm and gestures to the empty seat beside him. However, Peverell only assesses him with a cool look before turning the other cheek. Tom can only watch in shock as the elusive transfer slips into the seat next to a muggleborn. However, he doesn’t talk to the student either, more focused on his own food. 

The rest of the meal is spent watching Peverell. During this brief period of time, Tom doesn’t get to see much of Peverell’s character of personality. However, he does get to see the little ways he behaves in public and the way he responds to social conversations. 

“Peverell, what school did you come from?” 

“I was homeschooled by my late Godfather.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did you do any Quidditch?”

“I’m a fairly good seeker, though I haven’t played against anyone else.” A lie. His posture is too rigid and smile a bit too forced.

A girl leans forward and touches his hair, ignoring the slight way his posture stiffens. Although Peverell doesn’t seem to mind, Tom catches the slightest glint of disgust in his eyes. However, it quickly melts back into that cold look once more. “Bloody Hell! Your hair is _beautiful!_ What hair treatments do you use?”

Tom quickly tunes out the rest of the conversation; he doesn’t need to hear anymore. Besides, it’s not as if Peverell is going to reveal everything about himself. All he knows is that he can cast the killing curse and that he seems to be detached from everything around him. In other words, he floats above it all. 

“Hey, Tom,” Abraxas muses next to him, absentmindedly running a hand through his own silky air, “do you know Peverell? I could have sworn he was staring at you earlier.”

“No, I don’t. We’ll just have to wait and meet him for ourselves,” Tom answers lightly, eyes trained on his plate of food. A brief prickling sensation tickles his throat and Tom looks up, raising an eyebrow as he meets green eyes staring at him from his spot at the table. Peverell tilts his head to the side in silent acknowledgment and turns away, something like resignation in his eyes. Tom’s lips curl up in a cruel smirk. 

Interesting. 

.

.

.

Harry Peverell, Tom soon discovers, is a prodigy in his classes. Excelling very easily and skimming over the other students with slight indifference in his eyes, he is a genius. Every transfiguration, every potion, every spell and every swish of his wand is perfected to the point that it seems overdone. The professors are fond of him, much to Tom’s slight annoyance. They’re treating Peverell like they used to treat him. 

The same is with Dumbledore. If he’s suspicious of Tom, then he’s even more suspicious with Peverell. But when the younger student beckons the professor over to whisper something to him, the suspicion quickly turns to shock and acceptance. Later that night, both Peverell and Dumbledore’s respective seats are empty. No one mentions Dumbledore’s grateful look or Peverell’s slumped shoulders the next day.

One thing Tom notices is Peverell’s firm decision to stay away from Tom. Whenever he’s in class, he always notices Peverell staring at him, but when he attempts to go near the other boy, he turns the corner and seems to vanish into thin air. Gone, like a mysterious ghost or spirit. 

Eventually, though, he manages to have a talk with Peverell. But it goes quite different than he’s expecting. 

It happens in Potions. Tom is stirring his cauldron quietly when the hushed whispers around him stop, frozen and cut off. A shadow stretches over the desk and he turns right around, eyebrow already raised. “Yes?” he drawls, only to cut himself off when he sees Peverell standing directly in front of him. The boy tilts his head to the side, hands clasped behind his back. 

“I’m afraid the fumes of the potion have gotten to me. I don’t feel very well. Might you accompany me to the Hospital Wing?” Peverell asks, a rather blank look in his eyes. His eyes stare directly into Tom’s and for a brief moment, the boy considers using legilimency to enter his thoughts. So he does. Probing into Peverell’s eyes the slightest bit, he gives an experimental shove, only to get thrown back. Tom falters; Occlumency barriers? How? Peverell doesn’t seem surprised, though he looks more off-put. 

“Harry, _I_ can take you there,” a blonde boy says cheerily from the back. With a sudden jolt of _danger_ , Tom realizes that he has never seen him before. Who in the world is he? But Peverell doesn’t look back and continues to look at Tom. “There’s no need; you mustn’t tire yourself. I’ll just ask the Prefect for help.”

This time, his eyes look more pleading. Softer too. 

He’s showing weakness, Tom realizes, standing up. “Of course,” he tells the other boy, taking him by the hand and leading him out of the class. “I’ll show you.” Peverell nods and follows him out the door, leaving their peers in stunned silence. On the way out, Peverell’s eyes remain on the cold tiles of the floor. 

“And then we take a left—”

“It’s this way, isn’t it?”

Peverell moves ahead of him and walks a bit faster as if he’s trying to outrun Tom, which might be the case considering how off-put he looks at being near Tom. His fingers twitch as if he’s having the sudden urge to scratch at something. 

“...I’m assuming you already know your way, then?” Tom asks lightly, making sure to keep a polite smile on his face. Peverell simply continues marching on, shouldering past the students that skip classes. Silently, Tom follows, noting Peverell’s stance and expression. Agitation is written all over his face; his hands are clenched and so is his jaw. “Peverell—”

“Please, call me Harry,” he cuts off, turning once more. 

“..Harry…” It fits his small frame much better than Peverell does. 

“Yes?”

“Oh, nothing.” Tom waves him off and moves forward until they’re shoulder to shoulder. His arm sneaks onto Harry’s back and presses down lightly, taking the lead. A slight show of dominance and Harry seems to realize this too. However, he doesn’t do anything and seems fine with it. But then again, Harry is unpredictable and strange. He might brush him off like a pest. “I was just thinking...it’s a very simple name. But it suits you,” he says, smiling at the other charmingly. If he manages to coerce him into the Knights of Walpurgis, then things will be better for everyone and they’ll have a new addition. A win-win situation; Harry gets to be part of the organization and they get more power and help. 

Harry stops abruptly, like a violent force as he turns right around and stabs his finger into Tom’s chest, eyes shaking and unstable. “Tom Marvolo Riddle. Do you treasure the life you currently live? Do you consider everyone in your _stupid_ little group precious to you?”

"Yes, I do," Tom answers carefully, and Harry nods in approval. "Good. Well, if you do, I'd suggest that you don't change. Stay as you are, Tom Riddle, and you always will be. Or else, you'll lose everything you love."

He turns and makes a move to leave. It is only now that Tom notices something; Harry really isn't as detached as he hopes to be. There are plenty of moments when there is hidden emotion in his eyes. There's passion and anger, an old flame that he tries to hide. 

Oh, Tom realizes, grinning widely. He gets it now. 

Harry wants to be mysterious on purpose, doesn't he? What he's saying is true, but the way he's going about it is a choice. He's just _acting_ suspicious. He snickers under his breath, making Harry turn to face him. "What is it?"

"Your shoelaces are untied," Tom calls out. This will get him flustered. 

Sure enough, Harry turns bright red and looks down at his feet, immediately dropping his cool facade. Tom turns the other way so he can hide his chuckle. No, Harry's shoes aren't untied. 

He's wearing _loafers._

As he turns away, Harry squawks in protest, yelling something at his back. "Y-you! Really? Why did you even have to do that in the first place? Just take my advice and heed it!"

"Why are you wearing loafers?" he returns, dodging a hex when Harry screams in anger. Ah, there's the passion. That flame. "It's not in the uniform. Why I might just tell a professor," he teases, before running across the halls at full speed.

"Oh, you little—" Harry chases after him. 

"I'm taller than you!" Tom calls out, turning to face him. Harry huffs and speeds up, yelling, "Stop being so annoying! Just don't change! Don't be weird and stick to light magic! LIGHT!"

"It's far too late for that." It is. Tom is about to say something else when he promptly runs into a wall and blacks out. Right before he hits the ground, he hears Harry whimper, "Bloody Hell, I've just killed Voldemort!"

Close enough. 

.

When he wakes up he's in the hospital bed. The healer is tending to another student and next to him is Harry, who is currently staring at him with furrowed eyebrows and an angry look in his eyes. "One more time; never change. Stay as yourself and keep me out of your schemes. Don't become a noseless, hairless, ugly bastard, alright? I'm just trying to help you."

Tom doesn't respond though he pretends to agree. "Harry, why are you here? You're past is completely fabricated and I know you're interested in me. But in what way?"

Harry pauses. "What. How did you know?" he squeaks, and Tom grins. Finally, time to impress him. 

"I just _know. So._ What do you want me to do?"

"I want to protect you," Harry insists, and Tom frowns. "That doesn't mean you can interfere in my work. My business is my business. Why should I trust you? You transferred just today. You seem like a threat as well," he comments lightly, reveling in Harry's little huff. 

"Listen to me."

"No." Hook.

Harry continues onward. "I'll show you why listening to me is the best choice of action, alright? If I prove my worthiness, will you listen?"

"...I suppose." Line. 

"Fine! Then I'll prove it! Meet me in the library next week on Saturday whenever you're free."

Sinker. 

As Harry walks away, Tom cackles inwardly. If everything goes as planned, Harry will join his group and will assist him in his...little escapades and interests. And he might even help Tom in finding the Chamber of Secrets. Once again, everything goes as planned, he thinks smugly. 

.

.

.

"Oh, Tom," a voice booms. 

"Why can't you see that nothing will ever go your way?"

.

.

.


	3. Dream Act Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did NOT edit this lmfao
> 
> ;-;

“Tom,” a quiet voice says, and he turns to his left, only to see his friend’s face staring at him worriedly. Abraxas gestures to their friends, who are still chatting away happily. “What’s the matter with you? Do you even remember what time it is?”

“Of course I do,” Tom replies lightly. “It’s...it’s…”

He frowns. What? Why can’t he remember? Abraxas sighs. “We’re having dinner. Remember?”

“..Right,” Tom nods slowly, though he hides the part of him that thought it was lunchtime. “You’ve been preoccupied. Why?” Abraxas asks him. Tom sighs, digging into his salad rather sullenly. 

Harry is the problem. For some reason, he’s been  _ plaguing  _ Tom’s dreams and his thoughts, always around. It’s odd, thinking about one person solely all of the time, but it’s like Harry demands Tom’s attention, though he doesn’t outright say it. 

“I’ve been thinking about the new transfer,” Tom begins slowly, “and I’m quite...confused about him.”

“What’s the problem?” Orion chimes in. He raises an eyebrow. “What? D’you fancy him or something? Make sure you court him the proper way; he’s a Peverell.”

“No, I don’t fancy him,” Tom interrupts. Though, perhaps he does just a little. But he shakes it off. “I’ve seen him once before and it seems he recognizes me.”

“Well, where did you first see him?” Orion presses. Abraxas nods along. 

“I first saw him in a dream.”

Silence. Long silence. Then—

The two boys burst into laughter, obnoxious and boisterous. Tom rolls his eyes and shovels his salad into his mouth. Why can’t they be serious for once? Then again, it’s a strange idea. 

“Y-you saw him in a  _ dream _ ? Sorry, but this is too good! This is like one of those romance books my mother reads! Where the two lovers met in another world and are now destined to love each other, carried by a broken link!” Orion giggles. 

Abraxas nods. “Though, the more obvious answer would be that...maybe an obliviate gone wrong? He might have done something wrong in the past and you might have stumbled upon him? Because the act was so  _ horrifying,  _ no matter how strong his obliviate was, your mind still remembers it?”

“Maybe,” Tom says, “but it’s not very likely. Harry is strong on the outside, but he doesn’t seem like the type to torture someone.”

“...Wait.  _ Harry _ ? Since when have you been on a first name basis?” Orion asks, narrowing his eyes. “Is there something we don’t know about?”

But Tom doesn’t reply. 

.

.

.

“Help me write my Transfiguration Assignment,” Yaxley rushes, dropping his books on the desk with a loud slam. The other students glance at their table with curious looks, only to look away when Tom glares at them. “What are you looking at?”

They all turn away frantically. Sighing, Tom redirects his attention to Yaxley, who is now shaking in fear. “You’ve always been fine with Transfiguration. What happened to change that?”

“Oh, nothing. I just need you to help me write it,” Yaxley explains, looking a bit smug by the end of it. Again, Tom sighs. There are a few cons of befriending the Knights of Walpurgis and this is one of them. Still, he awkwardly pulls out his own parchment and hands it to Yaxley. 

“You can use the information from here. Just don’t copy anything, alright?” Tom asks, a stern expression on his face. Yaxley nods excitedly before snatching the paper out of his hand. He places it next to his blank piece of parchment and starts writing hurriedly. 

Tom casts one last look at him before picking up his book. He flips through the pages absentmindedly. He can’t focus. Nothing can  _ help  _ him focus. Frustrated, he slams it down on the table and makes a move to sit by the windows, only for Yaxley to stand up as well. “What do you want? I know you’re not done with the assignment; you started it about 21 seconds ago.”

“I was  _ also  _ wondering if you could help me find the best chocolate shop in Hogsmeade?” he asks uncertainly. There is an almost wobbly look to his smile. It’s annoying. Stop it. 

“The best chocolate and sweets shop is Honeydukes, remember?” Tom asks, continuing to walk in the other direction. Yaxley catches up, all of his papers put inside of his book bag. “Well, there’s a rumor that there’s a  _ better  _ one out there, a secret one.”

Tom rolls his eyes and stops abruptly. “Yaxley,” he says, turning around. He places a hand on the other boy’s shoulder. “There is no rumor. I would have known if there was one. Now, who told you this and why do you trust them?”

The other boy looks a bit pale at being caught. Tom suppresses a grin. No one can keep anything from him, for he is Lord Voldemort..!

“Tom? Something is wrong with your mouth. It’s going..up? At the corners?” Yaxley comments before Tom strikes him on the head with a piece of parchment. “Shut up.”

“Okay. But can I still talk about the ‘person?’”

“Yes, you may.”

“Okay, um. He-- well. It’s someone I think  _ you  _ might trust? Anyway, uh, this male student came up to me and sat down next to me in the Healer’s Wing when I was hurt. Remember last week?”

“The stray bludger? I remember,” Tom nods along. Yaxley nods as well. “Right. That’s why I was there. So, he sat next to me, offered me a cup of tea, and sat with me while we waited. He started talking about some special shops in Hogsmeade and told me the directions for it. I think he said, uh, go to Honeydukes, take a left, continue straight, take another left, then-- what was it? -- around the bend? I think.”

“Who was the student?” Tom presses.

Yaxley takes a deep breath. “It was Peverell.”

Oh. That’s...slightly anticlimactic. Tom frowns. “Why would he tell you? You’ve never even talked to him before.” There’s a strange feeling in his gut. Why is Peverell ignoring him? Perhaps Peverell wants to meet Yaxley and talk with him all alone. Ugh. The thought of Peverell and Yaxley together is  _ sickening.  _ So, against all better judgment, Tom makes a decision. A terrible decision, really. 

“Well, I’ll just have to go with you,” Tom blurts.

Yaxley freezes.

Tom freezes. 

Somewhere far away, Harry Peverell  _ sneezes. _

Somewhere even  _ farther away,  _ Dumbledore coughs.

Somewhere even farther away than Dumbledore, a man starts a fire in his kitchen. 

Oh, dear.

.

.

.

And that is how Tom ends up with Abraxas and Yaxley trailing behind him like mindless ducks. They chatter to themselves and simply follow behind him as he attempts to look for Peverell. He follows all of the directions, including the, ‘around the bend’ but he finds nothing.  _ Nothing.  _

“Where is that darn chocolate shop?” Abraxas mutters. He sweeps forward and looks around. “It’s not anywhere.”

The alleyway around them is simply an alleyway. There is nothing more to it. 

No chocolate shop, no Peverell, no note. Nothing. “Are you sure the directions were correct?”

“Oh. I forgot,” Yaxley says a bit sheepishly. “We're supposed to turn around and take another left.”

The three boys grumble before sullenly doing as Peverell had told. Finally, they arrive in another alleyway. Wonderful. Tom shakes his head and moves into the alleyway, looking around at the dimly lit corner. “This is  _ not  _ a chocolate shop,” he murmurs, running his hand over the stone. Further ahead, he hears screaming and freezes.

Abraxas and Yaxley hurry, moving behind him. “Did you hear that?”

“Of course I did,” Abraxas cuts in. “It was very loud. And manly. That was the manliest shriek I’ve ever heard.”

Ignoring that, Tom draws out his wand and runs in the direction of the screaming. It’s closer.

“Help! Help me!”

“Don’t follow me!” he yells at Abraxas and Yaxley before running faster.

If he can save this person, then he might get congratulated and get some sort of special award. And then he might be able to stay in Hogwarts during the Summer. 

He runs even faster. 

Soon, he stops directly in front of a duel between two wizards. One of them looks familiar. Like he’s seen them before. Is that--

“Harry?” he asks out loud, raising an eyebrow at the sight of Harry jabbing his wand into the stranger’s neck and uttering angry hexes. He turns around, slight panic in his eyes, but he doesn’t stop. Instead, he continues to cast harmful hexes, half of which Tom has never seen before. “...What’s your motive?” he asks, slightly amused as the stranger groans in pain and attempts to push him off. He’s bleeding profusely by now, though, for some strange reason, he doesn’t look too bothered. A masochist?

“That’s my business,” Harry responds quietly, kicking the student (he has a Hogwarts uniform) in the gut for good measure. 

“We both know I’m not letting this go until you answer me. Remember: I’m Prefect. My word is enough for the teachers to suspect you. Imagine the chaos that would break out if the ‘prodigy’ was found assaulting another student.”

Harry pauses, lip curling downwards. “...He attempted to rape me—”

“That is a lie!” the boy shrieks, running a hand through blonde curls. “A big fat lie! I hate your guts but that doesn’t mean I would rape you—”

“Then why were you touching me—”

“You’re making something out of nothing—”

“Boys, boys, stop!” Tom interrupts, pointing his wand at them. But Harry doesn’t listen, bringing his wand to the boy’s forehead. “Diffind—”

Without thinking, Tom silently casts incarcerous and watches in slight awe as Harry stumbles backward onto the ground, tied up in the rope. He stares up at Tom, a shocked expression on his face that quickly turns into lividness. “Stay out of this!”

The other boy rises and awkwardly shrugs at Harry before hobbling over to Tom. He holds out his hand but Tom ignores it in order to stare at Harry once more. He looks more vulnerable, like a weak kitten when he’s tied up. He turns and raises an eyebrow at the student. “..Yes?”

“My name is Cassius Fawley! I’m the better half of the Fawley twins and everyone agrees. So, if you see someone who looks like me but with lighter eyes, then  _ that  _ is my  _ brother, Obitus  _ Fawley.”

“..I’m—”

“Tom Riddle. 5th Year student, 15-years-old, Prefect? I know,” Cassius waves him off, turning to look at Harry. He snaps his fingers and the ropes fall away, disappearing mid-air. His smile is a bit sharper and more lethal. “If you know what’s best for you, then you’ll leave.”

Harry stands, green eyes narrowing for a moment. He doesn’t make any move to do anything, though it seems like the two of them are having a mental conversation. 

“..You’re not very good at reading between the lines, are you? I’m telling you I’m willing to overlook this,” Cassius continues, annoyed now. Harry frowns, looking over at Tom, before turning away. He spins around once and disappears with a loud crack. Underaged apparation. Interesting. 

“I know, right?” Cassius says, and it is only then that Tom realizes he has been speaking out loud. He smiles wryly at the other boy as he starts to heal himself. “What have you done to make Harry hate you like that? And I know you haven’t raped him; he’s not a very good liar.”

“I grilled his Owl,” he answers easily, though Tom knows he too is lying. However, he doesn’t say anything about it. Cassius continues walking back to the area where Tom’s friends are and turns around, smiling. He pulls out a book from under his robes and hands it to Tom. 

“What is this?” he asks, though he is intrigued. 

“Compensation for helping me.”

Tom looks down at the book and stifles a yelp at the sight of it. SALAZAR is the title. He flips through it and raises an eyebrow when he sees the language it’s written in. Parselscript. Huh. The book from his dream. He looks up in order to reluctantly thank Cassius, but the other boy is gone. 

.

.

.

"Tom," Yaxley whispers. Tom raises an eyebrow at him. "Yes?"

The other boy eats his beans. "The chocolate shop is real."

Oh. "It is?"

"It is," Yaxley nods, before handing him a piece of something. "Here. I got this for you."

It's dark chocolate. Tom smiles at the other boy and puts the package away, shrinking it. "Thank you. I suppose I'll call you by your first name. Uh, what... _is_ your first name?"

Yaxley opens his mouth, only to freeze. He pales and his eyes widen. "I, uh..."

"Well?"

"...I forgot. My parents haven't called me it in so long that I forgot it."

Oh. Oh wow. "Well, what _do_ they call you?"

Yaxley sniffles. "Shitstain."


	4. Gradus Prohibitus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tommy boi kills a bat 
> 
> *dabs then scurries away*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fuck i was going to make one chapter but I decided to split it instead.
> 
> yayayayaya.
> 
> I know it's confusing, but bear with me!!!!
> 
> I'll explain it one day.
> 
> One day,,,

“Tom, where were you? After doing your duties, you usually come back earlier. Did they make you watch the halls for longer this time?” Abraxas asks when they are all about to fall asleep. Tom slides into his own bed and waits a while before answering. 

“I was with a... _friend_ of mine,” he answers carefully. If he makes even _one_ error, Abraxas will catch on, and he can't have that.

“Alright,” he replies. “Just...let us know next time. What happens if you get hurt? Not that you will, but...just be safe.”

Tom snorts. Even if he’ll never admit it, Abraxas is a _mom._

.

.

.

EARLIER.

“How far away is your dorm?” Tom asks, following Cassius through the halls. They’ve been walking for quite a while. “Speaking of, are you even a student? You don’t have the Hogwarts tie.”

“I’m a Gryffindor,” Cassius replies, “but I didn’t want to wear the tie. So, I ripped it up and threw it away. And to answer your first question, uh...My dorm is just a little further. It’s right on the edge of Hogwarts. Let's go!”

He walks a bit faster, ushering Tom to follow him. The younger boy complies, joining him. Cassius takes a left and the two boys are met with a brick wall. For a brief moment, Tom wonders if he has been duped. But the brick wall _slides open_ and the smell of cookies wafts out and into the air. 

There’s a personal room inside.

The walls are yellow and light, obviously well taken care of. The decorations are clean as well, polished and brand new. Cassius must be a very diligent cleaner, Tom muses, running a hand over one of the tables. He turns back to the other student. “Well?”

“Sit down; I’ll get you some tea and treacle tart,” Cassius replies easily before sliding into the kitchen. Tom stares at him, long and hard, wondering if this is worth it. He seems a bit air-headed. And the food might possibly be tampered with. Then he remembers the book and plops down in one of the chairs. 

For a while, he waits in silence. Then, a letter catches his eye. 

Tom reaches out and plucks it from the surface of the table, pulling the paper out of the envelope. Inside is a very long scroll, labeled with a bland, “TO MY DEAREST AND MOST IDIOTIC YOUNGER BROTHER,” on the top. He only manages to reach the first sentence before Cassius is yelling, “I’m finished!”

He quickly puts the scroll away and places his folded hands in his lap, trying to look put together. Cassius doesn’t seem to notice anything off and hums lightly, levitating the plate of treacle tart and the tea cups in front of him. He plops one cup in Tom’s hand and inches the treacle tart towards him as well. Tom politely declines. 

“Your loss,” Cassius tells him, before sighing, long and deep. “I need to tell you something important about the Chamber of Secrets. And _other_ things as well. Would you be up for a long conversation?”

“Why else would I be here?”

“Right, right, anyway…” Cassius takes a moment to ground himself before going on. “Do you know what a Horcrux is?”

A what? “No, I _don’t._ Why?”

Cassius smiles wryly. “I sort of forgot. Sorry, I sometimes get people mixed up. But a Horcrux is a _terrifying_ monstrosity. It is dark and twisted and very... _evil,_ I suppose. Which is why I’m proud to say that I have made one of my own!”

Dead silence. Tom is still confused. “Yes, I get that it’s dark, but what is it?”

“It’s… immortality.”

What.

A Horcrux can help you achieve immortality.”

Tom pauses. Opens his mouth. Closes it.

“What the buggering fuck,” he whispers, and Cassius grins. “I know, right? Well, I was going to ask if you would like to make one.”

“I...Of _course I want to make one. How stupid do you think I am to give up something like this,”_ Tom retorts. Then he frowns. “But there’s a catch, isn’t there? There has to be _some_ sort of sacrifice.”

“You have to murder someone, go through pain, complete a complicated ritual, and those aren’t even the worst parts,” Cassius explains, grimacing. Then he brightens up. “But getting a stroke is not that bad, right?”

Tom frowns. “What?”

“Nothing,” Cassius rushes, sitting up straight. “Uh, the side effects are a bit... _Sad,_ but I guess I’ll tell you how this works. Once you make a Horcrux, you have to protect it. Your soul is in another vessel. You _have_ to make sure it doesn’t get harmed. It is a piece of you. Blablablah, you get my point. There is a _whole_ other list of things to do, but I have an easier solution. It still involves killing people, but it’s not as bad.”

Tom perks up. “Tell me more, then.”

Cassius grins. “I have a magical ability that has been coveted by many wizards. By family is the only one that can do this, so it’s considered sacred.” He takes a breath. “I can grant people any wish they desire. Any. That includes immortality. But you have to pay a price; you have to...what is it again? Oh. There are certain days where you have to duel wizards and witches that have gone rogue.”

“Gone.. _rogue_?”

“Wizards and Witches who’s souls have went haywire. It happens when they make a Horcrux. But all you have to do is make a contract with me and duel these Wizards and Witches. It’s dangerous, but I’m sure you’ll be able to do it. Now, what do you say, Tom Riddle? Do you accept?” Cassius asks, holding his arm out. 

For an absurd moment, Tom considers it. Then he frowns and his brain catches up once more. “That’s not enough information. I won’t be able to make a decision simply based on that, will I?”

Cassius looks like a child who’s just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He coughs and leans back. Adjusts his seat. “..Right. Where do I start?”

“The rogue Wizards and Witches. What about them? Where will I find them? How do they duel? Or fight?” Tom starts. 

“You can find them...anywhere. Sometimes they are students that have been led astray. Sometimes you can find them in muggle areas. Sometimes in the Forbidden Forest. Anywhere. They don’t duel anymore. Instead, they...use their magic in physical form and attack like that.”

Suddenly, he stands. “I can show you,” he tells Tom, holding out his hand. Tom stares at it, but doesn’t take it. He simply stands and nods curtly, following Cassius out of the room. 

The other boy leads him through long winding halls and hidden passages. He leads Tom out of the castle and onto the Quidditch pitch. But it doesn’t stop there; they walk until they reach the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest. Then, Cassius turns and holds out a hand to Tom. This time, he takes it. 

“I need you to hold on. If you don’t, you’ll get lost. Being in a Rogue Magic User’s territory is fatal. Each one has their own world and their own powers. We wouldn’t want you to die this early on, would we?” Cassius asks, tugging on his hand lightly. Tom frowns. What? There’s _more_ that Cassius hasn’t been telling him?

“Why is it fatal?” he questions, moving a bit faster. Cassius groans, looking a bit tired as he replies with, “It’s like a maze, or a labyrinth. Long. Winding. Endless. There’s no exit. Normal wizards and witches who wander in will often die. Muggles especially don’t stand a chance. Once you’re in a Labyrinth, every action counts. Sometimes, the Rogue User will manipulate your surroundings. Be careful.”

Tom keeps his mouth shut for now and takes the time to observe his surroundings. The forest looks like it always has. Sad. Cold. Full of magic, practically pulsing with it. But it seems...off. Perhaps it’s because of the fact that the sun is setting. Either way, it’s off. He turns back to Cassius. “Where is the labyrinth?”

The other sighs, long and drawn out. “We’re already in it.”

.

.

.

Labyrinths, Tom finds, are much more deceiving than he thought. Strange faires and creatures stumble around, hiding from him. Sometimes, in the corners of his eyes, he can see cornish pixies giggling. When he turns, they are gone. 

So this is what Cassius meant, he muses, kicking a random pebble beneath his feet. As the wind blows harsher, he adjusts the heating charm he has placed on himself and draws his wand out of his pocket. Raises it. “Now what?”

“Now, we wait. Don’t let go,” Cassius warns, before jerking his head towards their surroundings. “Look.

So, Tom does. He murmurs a quiet, “Fuck _,_ ” when he catches sight. 

The trees aren’t trees anymore. They have been completely transformed. Bright colors that morph and bend and twist, they are the strangest things he’s ever seen. The sight of these are oddly familiar.

Oh, right, he recalls. Back when he was around 6, he was given stale porridge for Breakfast. He had scarfed it down, only to throw up later. He hallucinated that week, seeing strange colors and circles everywhere. This was just like that.

“Are we—”

“It’s here!” Cassius interrupts, and Tom shuts up. The trees ahead stop and grow bigger, whooshing past them roughly. He accidently closes his eyes a few times, the wind being too harsh. Finally, the tree stops and a door appears in front of them. 

“Beyond this door, is the Rogue Witch. I’m calling it a Witch because of the markings on the side of the tree. Most females use that marking. Now, be careful, and fight off the Witch’s familiar. It will most likely take the form of the familiar the Witch had before she was corrupted,” warns Cassius, before blasting the door open. Immediately, bats rush out and the two boys run in. Finally, Tom lets go of his hand and subtly wipes it off.

Then, he raises his wand.

A bat is an odd familiar, Tom thinks, idly casting a severing charm at it. It is large, much larger than he’s used to, but he’ll manage. When the charm does nothing, Tom sighs and draws the infamous shape of one of the Unforgivables.

“Avada Kedavra,” he intones, bored, but slightly amused. His lips curl up as the bat shrieks once before dropping to the ground.

Dead.

He turns to Cassius, he discovers that the other is--

Doing nothing. What? Shocked and a little confused, Tom strides towards him, tucking his wand into its holster. He stops directly in front of Cassius and the labyrinth around them falls away, becoming the familiar forest he is used to.

“I’m assuming you fought off the rogue witch,” Tom comments, eyeing the other male. Cassius grins. “You’re right. Finished her off with a simple charm. Diffindo!” he chants, aiming his wand at a nearby tree. It misses.

Hmm. How odd. How did it take him so little time? Was there even a Witch in the first place? What happened to her body?

Tom snorts under his breath before walking out of the forest. Cassius had been right; the witch played with his sense of perception. He was actually much closer to the school than he thought. 

As they walk back to the school, none of them really say anything. When they reach the Great Hall, Tom turns to Cassius and nods curtly. “That was an...enlightening experience. I’d like to learn more about it. You were going to tell me about the Chamber of Secrets, but there's no more time. We'll talk the next time we see each other.”

“Are you...considering it?” Cassius asks, a smile growing on his face. Tom scoffs, turning the other way, robes billowing behind him as he replies with a blunt, “Of course not.”

He's not going to make a decision based on that. There is still much to know. How strong are the rogue magic users? Can they _kill_? Or simply harm? What happens to their bodies? And will he really risk everything? Even if he accepts, in the future, he won't be able to lead the Knights of Walpurgis if he's gone every other night.

Cassius frowns. Then he starts walking back to his own ‘dorm.’

Halfway through, he notices that the air around him has thickened considerably. His eyes widen just the slightest bit. Then, he speaks.

"Harry. What brings you out here? Isn't it past your bedtime?"

Clack of footsteps. Around the corner, a familiar figure with dark hair appears, looking angry. Harry apparates in front of him and shoves a finger into his chest, enraged. "What makes you think that bringing an _innocent_ bystander with you is a good idea? You know that he could get _hurt_! I don't _want_ him to get hurt! And you _know_ that. You know that he could get hurt and you're doing this on purpose so you can just _meddle_ with Obitus and I's plans! Stay out of this."

Cassius snorts and pushes Harry's hand away lightly. "We both know Tom Riddle is not innocent. Whether it is now, or when he becomes a feared Dark Lord in the future. He's not innocent. He was innocent when he was younger, and we both know that you can't just go back to that time. After all, you're stuck in _this_ one. Come on, Harry. I'm doing this for you. It's his _fate_ to become a--"

"I came here to change that. And I'm not letting a newcomer change that. I pledged my life to protect Tom Marvolo Riddle, and I'm going see it through," Harry cuts through, turning away. He apparates to the other side of the hall, pulling his invisibility cloak out of his robes. He starts to slip it on, only to pause when Cassius poses a question:

"Is it worth it?"

The younger seems to struggle with answering. But finally, he seems to come up with one. "The idea of it isn't. But Tom? _He's_ worth it."

Cassius smiles a bit tiredly. "Is that so? Well, then we'll have to make sure that we never cross paths again. The next time we do, I won't hold back."

Harry doesn't reply. They both know he's lying. He'll hold back. He's done it before.

But it's not like Harry has won either.

Cassius turns and is about to apparate to his room when a hand lands on his shoulder. He turns, raising an eyebrow, only to freeze.

A prefect stands in front of him, pointing to her badge. "Ahem. What are you doing after curfew, might I ask?"

"Heeeeyyy, Brooke!" he replies, trying to out of this. She snorts and slaps him on the head with her wand. "My name is Katherine. Detention."

"Fuck!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not edit this so,,
> 
> ;-;
> 
> Yikes
> 
> If you liked it, feel free to leave a comment or kudos!!! It really makes my day!
> 
> I know some of y'all read without bookmarking or kudosing lmfao
> 
> .
> 
> Next Chapter - Abraxas tries to make Tomarry happen and snorts tea like a b o s s
> 
> tom is in denial
> 
> harry is disassociating
> 
> obitus is mentioned (yet again)


	5. (Crack-ey Chapter)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i wanted to post this so,,,yeah. :D.
> 
> This is not the full chapter but...whatever. I just wanted to get it out lmfao,,,
> 
> ;-;

(the crack before the storm )

tom -😒

abraxas -  😏

orion - 🤪 1!!11!!!!!

harry - 😔

“And you believe this... _ Fawley  _ person?” Abraxas asks dryly, stirring his tea lightly. He raises the cup to his face and takes a long sip, humming at the flavor of chamomile. Tom, on the other hand, isn’t so sure why his friend prefers florally tastes. Personally, he prefers richer flavors. “Yes, I believe him. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to agree with his contract.”

Abraxas nods carefully. “That’s...good. I don’t think it would be good to trust someone too easily. Give him 2 days, 3 hours, 4 minutes, 53 seconds, and another Rogue Witch or Wizard hunt before agreeing to it.”

Tom frowns. “That’s oddly specific,” he comments, before freezing. “Did you set up privacy charms?”

Around them, the student chatter louder than ever before, excited with the implications of the snow outside. It’s awfully early (Mid October) but it appears that Winter is coming much faster. 

Abraxas nods, looking quite proud of himself. “Why,  _ yes,  _ I did.”

“Good,” Tom replies, before his eyes flit to a certain boy across the table. Sure enough, Harry is sitting in his usual spot, a ruffled expression on his face. His nose is scrunched up a little and he seems to be―

“Pouting. Very interesting,” he whispers, ignoring Abraxas, who chuckles under his breath. “Are you sure you don’t fancy him?”

“No.” Not yet.

The Malfoy Heir shrugs, though there’s a certain mischievous look in his eye.

“Abraxas. What are you going to do?”

“What? I’m not going to do anything. What gave you  _ that  _ idea?”

“Don’t you dare,” Tom hisses, glaring daggers at Abraxas. Sort of. The only problem is that he’s still staring at Harry, so he accidently glares at him instead. And for some reason, at that exact moment, Harry looks up. Meets his angry gaze, which has now turned into panic.

Harry recoils, looking affronted, before shooting Tom a glare of his own and looking down at his fruit bowl. “Fuck,” Tom whispers under his breath very delicately. Abraxas giggles, accidentally snorting his tea. “Ah, fuck.”

“Serves you right.”

“What did I do?” he replies, holding a napkin over his nose. Tom crosses his arms. “You did that on purpose! You wanted me to look like some... _ strange  _ person who was obsessed with Harry!”

“What, like you’re not?” Abraxas replies, and the bickering starts all over again. The others at the table shoot them worried glances. Orion is the only one who is completely oblivious; he’s chatting with a 7th year girl who seems to be giving him tips on escaping child neglect.

“It’s natural for you to feel this way!”

“What  _ feeling _ ? There are no feelings!”

“I just want you to know that I support you and think that you both would look lovely together!”

“He doesn’t even like me!”

“Are you sure?”

Tom pauses. Then he nods. “Yes, I’m sure.”

Abraxas sigh, slumping into his seat just the tiniest bit. “I guess I won’t get to see your kids. It’s a shame; the two of you would have lovely children.”

“What the fuck―”

“Shh!” Orion cuts in. He slams his hand down on the table and points across the room to Harry. “Look! He got a  _ letter. _ ”

Tom perks up, casually glancing at Harry, who is currently giving an owl some head rubs. The owl trills happily, fluffing up its feathers before taking off. With its glowing yellow eyes and its black feathers, it seems like one of a kind. Harry sends it a fond smile before turning to the letter in his hand. There is an odd crest imprinted on the paper.

Harry pulls out a long scroll and skims over it. His mouth curls downward at the end and he rolls it up, shoving it into his robes unceremoniously. Then, as if nothing happened, he continues to eat. 

Orion gasps. “What if that was…” his voice lowers, “his mysterious **_lover._** ”

He turns to Abraxas and shakes him back and forth. “It’s true, isn’t it? Oh, and he’s an orphan!”

Tom scoffs. “What does that have to do with this?  _ I  _ am an orphan. That doesn’t mean I have a mysterious lover. How is this any different?”

“No! Here’s the thing; what if Harry  _ lives  _ with his significant other! Over the break, they could―”

Abraxas giggles. “Oh. Tom, are you...jealous? Angry that another bloke has stolen Peverell?”

Tom frowns, willing himself to look away from Harry. He knows he shouldn’t fall for the bait, but― “Of course not. There  _ is  _ no bloke. And how can you tell that Harry is... _ attracted to the same gender _ ? There’s no way to tell,” he argues, sneaking one look at Harry. Sure, his stature is petite, but that doesn’t mean he’s automatically gay. 

Orion sighs. “..Have you seen his legs?”

“What do his legs have to do with this?” Tom retorts, before freezing. “Wait.  _ Why are you staring at his legs. Only  _ **_I_ ** _ am allowed to stare at them.” _

Then he freezes  _ again.  _ “..Oh.”

It has suddenly occurred to him that this was a trick all along. There’s no lover. There’s no romance. There’s no implication of Harry’s gayness. Abraxas and Orion just wanted to get a reaction out of him. “Do yourself a favor and forget everything I just said.”

  
“But-”

Tom sends a wandless stinging hex at both Abraxas and Orion, who wince in unison. They offer him apologetic looks when he turns away, stabbing his breakfast angrily. “Tom? We’ll stop if you want us to,” Orion offers quietly. Abraxas nods along. “Yeah, we’ll stop.”

“..Let’s pretend this never happened,” Tom replies with a very monotone voice. He chugs his water and the other two nod. “Alright.”

He breathes a sigh of relief. Finally. No more mentions of his peculiar feelings for the Peverell heir. 

Just then, Yaxley walks towards them, a croissant in his mouth. “So I heard you’re gay?”

“Morgana’s saggy tits!”


	6. Gradus Prohibitus Act Two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry is weirdo boi
> 
> And this is meant to be confusing so it'll get cleared up later lol bye 
> 
> *rolls away on my skateboard because i'm u n i q u e*

.

.

.

“This rogue wizard seems a bit...off, doesn’t he?” 

Tom cuts in front of Cassius, who lets out a squawk of protest. His indignant pouting gets ignored and the younger surveys the corner of the labyrinth. 

He’d been in his room, flipping through the very first pages of the Salazar book when Cassius apparated directly into the room and waved at him, before grabbing him by the arm and bringing them to the opposite side of the dungeons. There was one 8th year wizard who had succumbed to his Horcrux and became a monster. It was surprising, Cassius told him, since only 0.00001 percent of wizarding students made Horcruxes.

It wasn't much of a surprise. 

Halfway through, Cassius comments on something with a mild interest in his voice. "How did your date with Harry in the library go?"

Tom trips over his robes and chokes on air. Oh no. 

The DATE. The date that he was invited to. During the first day they met, when Harry was insistent on convincing him to… what was it?  _ Not _ change?

"He hates me. "

"Yeah, you're right."

Ignoring that, Tom tilts his head to the side as he examines the labyrinth that he and his acquaintance have managed to get themselves into. He can worry about Harry later. The walls are bright and pink, little chocolate, and candy wrappers are pasted onto the ground, and tiny creatures with bright pink cream on their heads wobble by. Since they haven't attacked either of them yet, they’ve decided to leave them be for now.

As happy and cheerful as this labyrinth seems, there’s a sense of oddness to it. Alongside the candy and food are strange medicine bottles, pills, and potions for health. Tom only recognizes the medicine and the pills because he was given them when he was 8 and had caught yet another sickness.

“About your earlier comment,” Tom murmurs, “you’re right. Something is  _ off.  _ I suppose we’ll have to keep our guards up, won’t we?”

“Yes, that’s absolutely correct!” Cassius replies cheerfully, only to hold out a hand in front of Tom. The younger abruptly stops, before frowning. “What is it?”

“Look. A witch. Not a rogue one, I mean an  _ actual witch  _ from Hogwarts.”

Sure enough, there is a young witch huddled into one corner of the labyrinth. She looks to be in her 1st year and is silently crying, shuddering as the walls twist and change patterns. Tom himself was slightly shocked by the changes, but Cassius explained to him that the Rogue Magic-Users preferred to scare their victims and play with their sense of sight and smell.

At first, Tom simply wants to walk past the girl and let her be. But then he notices the look in her eyes. It’s one that he’s seen multiple times in the bathroom mirrors when he’s by himself. Sometimes in puddles, sometimes in silverware. 

The look of someone who grew up in a harsh environment and has been groomed to fend for themselves. To  _ survive. _

And so, Tom slips in front of Cassius and walks until he’s directly in front of the girl. She doesn’t seem to notice him and instead sniffles louder, burying into her knees with a quiet sob. Hesitantly, he holds out a hand, only to yank it back when he sees her eyes. 

Black. 

Pure black. The girl grins before jumping at him with a quiet snarl, teeth sharp and glistening with some strange...liquid dripping from them. She snaps at him, only to be thrown back by his shield charm. With a whimper, she crumples to the floor. 

“And  _ this  _ is why we don’t approach little girls,” Cassius sighs, helping Tom up to his feet, who in turn dusts off his robes with a slight twist to the mouth. It seems that the labyrinth is more dangerous than he thought. 

_ Much  _ more dangerous. 

.

.

.

“If that  _ twat  _ doesn’t stop this  _ instant,  _ I’ll just let him die!”

Harry takes a step forward and brushes away the curtain with a flick of his wand. They freeze up before gliding open for him. After making sure that it’s not dangerous, he takes a cautious step into the kitchen and looks around.

It looks the same. White. Bland. Little plants growing off to the window sill. Just as he expected it to look. Obitus must have been taking good care of them, at the very least, he thinks, reaching for the cabinet. Opens it, only to find nothing. 

“What?”

Harry blinks a few times, then grimaces, rubbing his eyes. His eyesight isn’t that bad, not anymore, at least, but he must be hallucinating. After all,  _ where is his hourglass?  _

“Looking for this?”

At the sound of the voice, Harry spins around, a muttered curse at his tongue, only to stop when he sees a familiar face in front of him. He stops halfway through, then relaxes. “You’re here. And I thought I told you not to touch it.”

He grins, then moves towards Harry, holding it out. “Sorry, toots. Didn’t mean to piss you off,” he explains easily, jerking back when Harry snatches the hourglass out of his hand. “What did  _ I  _ do?”

“You were being yourself. And stop using that annoying American Accent. You’re British, so there’s no need to go all, “Howdy, Fella!” on me.”

Harry lets his slightly tense form drop and sighs, turning to face the other. “But enough of that. I need your help.”

A raised eyebrow. “Oh? What does my dear friend need? I’m always at your service!”

Harry rolls his eyes, but answers anyway. “It’s Tom. He’s more influenced by Cassius this time around. I’m not sure why, but I think he needs a bit of coercing, doesn’t he? I mean,  _ he forgot our date.  _ Anyway, he’s in Charles’ Labyrinth as of right now. You know. The one where…”

His friend grimaces. “Oh. Yikes. Well, I have got a simple solution! Let’s follow him there. Well,  _ you  _ follow him there. I’m perfectly fine being a housewife.”

The younger time traveler snorts and pushes past him, pulling out a house key from his robes. He tosses it to him. “Alright, then. I better get back to Hogwarts. See you in a bit, yeah?”

“Yeah- wait a minute, are you  _ skipping  _ school?”

“No comment,” answers Harry, just before he apparates away. 

“I- get back here!”

.

.

.

“Watch the steps,” Tom says, skipping over said steps. Cassius grumbles and follows his example, all the while fighting familiars. The routine has become so simple that Tom almost feels he’s an R. W hunter.

But he hasn’t made the deal yet. It’s still too early. Besides, most of this is just practice for when he becomes a  _ real  _ Dark Lord and takes over the world. 

Though that will come later. 

“Have you made up your mind about making a deal with me?” Cassius asks, twirling his wand idly before shooting a quick Crucio at a nearby wall. Nothing happens. 

“No. I don’t think so, yet.” Tom skins a strange butterfly-bun-custard-pudding looking thing. It screams and collapses next to his foot. Grimacing, he kicks it away and watches it die with a disgusted expression. “Filthy.”

“Like your m-”

“Don’t finish that,” he says, shoving a piece of custard butterfly intestines at Cassius. Said boy nods, stepping back just the slightest bit. “Right! I’ll never say that again!”

Good. 

The pair finishes off the rest of the familiars rather quickly, and then they hurry towards the end of the dungeon. For some reason, Tom realizes with alarm, this labyrinth is very long. 

“It’s not just me, is it?” 

“Stand your guard,” Tom shoots back, ignoring the turmoil in his stomach. Why isn’t it over yet? They should have reached the middle of the labyrinth by now, where the Rogue Wizard lays. 

But they  _ haven’t.  _

Just then, a familiar voice shouts, “Guys! Wait up!”

Willing himself not to curse the other, Tom turns around slowly. “Yaxley.  _ What the everloving fuck are you doing here. _ ” Is it possible for someone to be this stupid? In a  _ labyrinth _ ?

The other boy smiles tiredly before catching up to them. Sneaking a peek at Cassius reveals a very strained smile. It appears he wasn’t expecting him. “Ah. This is Yaxley? It’s a pleasure. Now, how did you get here?”

“Oh, I wanted to tell Tom something, but then the walls started changing, strange autistic creatures appeared, and grilled owls started flying around. I’m not sure that’s a good thing? Maybe we all ate some strange...mushrooms? I mean, I’ve tried one myself and-- what is that,” Yaxley says, cutting off his rant. Tom and Cassius follow the direction his finger is pointing at.

“The Rogue Wizard looks like a-- like a  _ toy, _ ” Tom shudders.

A toy indeed. With its button eyes, sewed on smile, and plush hands, it seems like a harmless little toy for a harmless little girl.

“Rogue Wizard, what in the world?” Yaxley asks. Cassius opens his mouth to answer (and send him off), then stops. His smile turns brittle and he glares at something behind Yaxley. Following his gaze leads to a very familiar figure. Harry. Harry, who has decided to interrupt.  _ Again.  _

“What are you doing here? I thought I told you we weren’t going to cross paths ever again,” Cassius comments lightly, stepping towards him. Harry rolls his eyes and slips his wand out of his holster, pointing it at him. 

“This  _ wizard  _ is different. You know this. Just  _ stay  _ away from it. Let  _ me  _ handle it, alright? You might end up hurt,” Harry explains, taking a step forward. Cassius nudges Yaxley, then gestures for his wand. Too afraid to do anything, he hands it over, then watches in shock as Cassius proceeds to cast incarcerous with a wand that isn’t even his. He tosses it back to Yaxley, then reaches for Harry, who is currently tied up, wand still in his grip.

Cassius snatches it out of his hand, then grins. “Oops. Too bad. We can handle it by ourselves, got it?”

“Wait! No! You can’t do this!  _ Listen to me,  _ it’s  _ different _ ! Fawley! You  _ fucker! _ ”

Ignoring his pleas, Tom, Cassius, and a very confused Yaxley leave him behind, taking steps towards the pathetic Wizard.

“So, who wants to kill it?”

“Let’s volunteer  _ Yaxley,”  _ Cassius suggests, pushing the other forward. “Just cast a Diffindo at its head and we’re done.”

Well...They could obliviate him, but he would be even  _ more  _ confused and he’ll be in more danger. So, just  _ telling  _ him will be easier. And he needs practice in killing things, so why not? Tom grins reassuringly at Yaxley, who in turn sighs.

“I-... _ Fine.  _ But you have to explain what’s going on, alright?” he asks, before pulling out his wand and aiming it at the tiny R. W. 

“ _ Diffindo _ !”

With a single strike, the Wizard crumples to the floor, dead. His- well,  _ Its  _ smile dims and its head falls off. “Yay,” Tom comments, watching the fluff fall out. Yaxley smiles in a slightly confused manner. 

“Uh, yay? I did it? Now can you explain? I’m awfully confused.”

Then, a strange lump appears in the Rogue Wizard’s corpse, pushing out until a new creature rises. It then proceeds to move in front of Yaxley and snaps 

its

jaw

around

his

neck.

.

.

.

_ Click.  _

Harry falls to his knees as the Incarcerous comes undone. When he looks down at the leftover ropes in his hand, they start to wither away and break apart, turning black. 

“Oh,  _ no. _ ”

It’s too late. 

.

.

.


	8. Cor Destructum.

.

When he sees the _monster_ ascend on Yaxley and tear off his head, Tom can’t help but let out a hysterical chuckle, unable to do anything else but watch in shock as the sound of cracking bones and wet slide of blood echoes through the labyrinth. 

Beside him, Cassius stares, mouth stuck in a thin line that stretches across his face, not quite like a smile. He doesn’t move and simply watches with a blank face as Yaxley’s body collapses onto the ground _without_ its head. The creature licks its lips before reaching down and snacking on the rest of his body. 

“ _Fuck,_ ” a voice whispers, and it is only 5 seconds later that Tom realizes it’s _his_ voice. This seems to spur Cassius into movement; he lunges for Tom’s arm and pulls him back, further and further away from the remains of Yaxley’s body. 

“..We are simply going to _leave_ him there?” Tom asks quietly, though he doesn’t go against the idea. As much as he likes- _liked_ Yaxley, he’s _dead_ and now it’s only him and Cassius against it. 

“Yup. Don’t get the wrong idea; I think he was an alright bloke, but we _need_ to get out of here. Now, come on!” Cassius replies, only to curse when the two of them come face to face with a wall that wasn’t there before, a prime example of perception changes. 

They should have been more careful.

“We don’t have the _time_ to make an escape. Tom, you’ll have to make a contract with me. What is the one thing that you want the most? Immortality? The power to bring him back? Sweet Circe, Tom, choose one!” Cassius pleads, turning around to shake his shoulders. 

Tom frowns and opens his mouth, closing it after stuttering out a quick, “I- what? No, I can’t. Not _now._ You saw what happened to Yaxley, didn’t you?”

This spurs Cassius on even more. “I’m too weak to fight it on my own! I _need_ you to help me! Merlin! If you choose immortality, what happened to Yaxley _won’t_ happen to you! Sure, you’ll go through a lot of pain when regenerating, but it’s all good!”

“I...I…” Tom’s eyes flick to Yaxley’s remains and back to Cassius. “..Of course. I wish一”

“ _That won’t be necessary,_ ” a voice interrupts, before a familiar figure appears directly in front of him. Harry spares him one long look before raising a hand and summoning his wand to himself. Once done, he spins it before raising it and shooting a Bombarda Maxima at the creature. It’s odd how he’s able to do all of this wordless, but he was stuck in the Incarcerous. Couldn’t he have gotten out?

Tom’s thoughts are cut off when the creature explodes rather messily, its guts spilling all over the place. Cassius mutters a quiet, “Fuck.”

Harry doesn’t make any move to respond and apparates over to Yaxley’s body. However, before he can pick him up, the labyrinth fades away and he stands in front of a blank wall. 

There is, however, a mini hourglass on the floor. Harry eyes it with interest before slipping it into his robes. Then, he spins around rather angrily, eyes narrowed. He apparates directly in front of him and Cassius, then starts to speak.

“Do you have _any_ idea how idiotic that was? Allowing that poor student to come with you, then _fleeing_ as you leave him behind? And Cassius. Really? ‘I'm too weak.’ Well, that explains everything; you’re not fit to protect Tom and you shouldn’t drag innocent bystanders into this. You’re clearly not ready to fight _real_ monsters. After all, _I_ was able to kill it with a simple Bombarda, how could _you_ not do it?”

He steps forward and shoves a finger into Cassius’s chest. “ _Fear._ You were _afraid.”_ Green eyes dart to Tom. “If you can’t calm yourself in a stressful situation, then you shouldn’t have been doing this in the first place. Imagine what would happen if you hadn’t taken up this activity? You wouldn’t have lost a friend.” His tone rises. “Do you understand? Do you understand what I was _telling you_?”

All of a sudden, his voice quiets. “I truly hope that this is the last of your hunts. Heed my warning. Stay away from those.. ‘Rogue Witches and Wizards.’ They’re dangerous, and you need to leave them be.” 

Without as much as a backwards glance, Harry leaves with a crack of apparation, leaving behind a small note in Cassius’s hand, who unfolds it and reads it with blank eyes. He sets it on fire with an Incendio and drops the ashes on the floor. 

It is with this final movement that the dam breaks. 

“How? How could... _this_ happen to someone like Yaxley? Someone who wasn’t supposed to be involved in this? For Merlin’s sake, all he wanted was for his parents to _not_ hate him! And what will happen to his body? Where is it?” Tom hisses out, raising his head to stare Cassius in the eye. The other looks away. “Well?”

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you that, Tom. I can’t answer any of those questions. Look, I’ve got to go, how about we talk on some other day, alright?” Cassius replies cheerily, before apparating with a single, “Have a wonderful night!”

And he’s gone, the remnants of his sentence echoing through the dungeons. With a frustrated groan, Tom sets most of the wall on fire, running a hand through his hair as the flames rise up. How is he supposed to feel? Sad? Angry? Is he supposed to not care?

Yes, Yaxley was an important asset, but _how_ important was he?

With a sigh, Tom trudges back to his room with a flood of questions pouring through his mind, similar to the flood of water rushing out of his wand. 

.

.

.

“Do you know where Yaxley went?” Abraxas asks him the next day, during Potions. Tom freezes, accidently spilling an extra bit of Flobberworm Mucus into their cauldron. The light-haired-male screeches and desperately tries to get it out, but it’s too late. “Tom!”

“I’m...I do not...I... _Fuck._ Sorry, Abraxas, I’m _really_ not sure what happened. I’m sorry,” he apologizes quickly, only to stop when he sees the flabbergasted look on the other’s face. “What?”

“You..You _apologized._ And you meant it. Tom, what’s _happened_ to you?” Abraxas cries, the Flobberworm Mucus forgotten. “Are you alright?”

“I’m alright. I’m completely fine,” Tom reassures, though the dark circles under his eyes say otherwise. He forgot to put on a glamour, and if he put one on right now, Abraxas would question him anyway. The other frowns, as if unsure of Tom’s answer. “Then, do you have any idea where Yaxley is? I saw him yesterday, but he’s just... _gone._ ”

For a moment, Tom wants to _cry._ As if such a mundane thing will stop all of his problems. He also has the urge to tell Abraxas everything, about the incidence, about Yaxley’s... _mishap._ But he doesn’t. Because he _knows_ that Abraxas will turn him in. As much as he likes the other, they’ve only been friends for a while. So, donning the most confused expression he can, he shakes his head. “No, I haven’t any idea where he went. Perhaps he’s...in the Room of Requirement?” he attempts to joke. 

Abraxas takes it a bit too seriously. “That...That’s _plausible,_ ” he agrees, then brightens up. “Alright, Tom. We’ll look for him after this potion is finished!”

Oh. Oh _shit._ Cursing, Tom starts stirring the potion rather quickly. He had completely forgotten about said potion. Maybe Yaxley’s taken a bigger toll on him than he thought. 

“And you know that...R.W hunting thing you told me about?” Abraxas asks, sending him a hopeful grin. Tom nods slowly, unconsciously running a hand down his neck. “Well, I made a deal and now, I’ve become a hunter!”

Tom’s eyes roll back into his head and he topples to the ground. 

_Merlin is a bastard for allowing this to happen. Fuck Merlin,_ he thinks before Abraxas screeches.

.

.

.

When Tom awakes, he is in a familiar bed. It seems he has ended up in the Hospital Wing once more. Tom sits up and sighs, stretching his aching bones. "What time is it?" he mumbles, looking down at the sheets. However, before he can even use a time spell, a hand reaches out and wraps around his wrist. Tom jerks it away and freezes at the sight of Harry, who looks more polished than Tom. "I...Harry?"

The younger looks him in the eyes with a small smile, though it looks forced. "How about that date we were talking about? I have something I'd like to tell you."


	9. Postmeridie.

Harry isn’t one to beat around the bush. Instead, he gets straight to the point and does it rather bluntly. Tom learns this during their walk to the library when Harry suddenly speaks up. 

“Yaxley’s death was an accident, I’m sure of that. You don’t have to feel guilty; it’s not your fault.”

Tom raises his head and lifts an eyebrow, stepping forward so his walk is in sync with Harry’s. What in the world is he talking about? One day ago, he’s yelling at Tom and Cassius, but now he’s being gentle? “Oh, really?”

“Yes, really,” the younger answers, eyes trained on the ground in front of them. He takes a turn and Tom follows, a bit lighter than before. Soon, they reach the library and step inside, looking for a good place to sit. However, before Tom can even choose a specific area, Harry pulls him behind one of the bookshelves, where they can speak in peace. The younger looks him in the eyes and leans back against the bookshelf, patiently waiting for Tom to speak. 

So he does. 

“Is there any possible way for me to prevent Abraxas’s death? We both know this... _job_ is _not_ going to work,” he says, trying for a blunt approach. Yaxley’s disappearance has been _troubling_ for him and Abraxas, who _knows_ what will happen when _he_ dies?

Harry sighs, though it’s not very long and drawn out. Instead, he treats the question like it’s something _annoying._ “There’s no way. Abraxas Malfoy was doomed from the start. For now, all you can do is protect him and try not to get him in trouble. And don’t you _dare_ make a contract of your own. Even _if_ you become immortal, the process of being killed and coming back to life is very painful and horrible,” the younger says, pointing to Tom with a glare. 

_Wait._ Did he just... _attempt to command him_ ? Sure, it was _amusing_ when he did it before, but now it’s just annoying. Tom shoots Harry a glare of his own and crosses his arms, eyes showing in thinly veiled anger. “I don’t think someone like you should be telling me what to do.”

“The last time you didn’t take my advice, someone was killed. And his body is _still_ in the labyrinth. They’ll never find him or know what happened. The students have started to pay attention. They’ll find out. Just this morning, I overheard some Witches gossiping about his disappearance. And you’re the _last_ person to have seen him. So, I’m pretty sure you should listen to me,” Harry snaps back, taking a small step back. It’s very small, but it’s enough for Tom to know that he has disturbed the other. So, he takes a giant step forward, invading Harry’s personal space. 

“You know I can handle any situation. And no one is going to find out. After all, he wasn’t very popular in the eyes of his peers. Yaxley’s disappearance will be just that: a disappearance. I’ll make sure _no one_ finds out. And if you _dare_ tell anyone it was me? Well, you’ll find out soon enough,” he hisses, eyes flitting to his wand. Harry notices, though his facial expression doesn’t change. 

“You still don’t believe me?” Harry sighs. “ _I don’t even know why I bother._ Fine. So be it. Do whatever you want with the whole... _death_ situation. But make sure you don’t draw attention to yourself. In fact, just put the blame on Cassius.”

Tom raises an eyebrow. “Why throw _him_ under the bus?”

Harry huffs angrily, looking at Tom as if he is a mentally-retarded-rat. “Really? Because _he’s_ the one who dragged you into this mess in the first place. Because _he’s_ the one that caused Yaxley’s death!”

Well. That _is_ a good argument. “But he also told me how I could achieve immortality."

“..You’re going to ignore your friend’s death? You’re actually going to do that?” Harry asks, crossing his arms and staring up at Tom with confusion. He doesn’t seem angry, just intrigued by Tom’s thought process _._ “I thought you were going to avenge him or something. Why do you not care?”

“He was just someone that I could use to get personal connections and success. He’s _disposable._ ” And it’s true. The pain of losing Yaxley was similar to the pain of losing a toy. Sad, but not very important and very easily replaceable. But there’s a more _important_ question that needs to be discussed. Tom leans back, though he still towers over Harry. 

“Why are you trying to help me?”

“What?” Harry looks like a deer in the headlights. Eyes blown wide in genuine confusion and body curled into itself. It’s the most vulnerable Tom has ever seen him, excluding that dream he once had. 

“You could have turned me in before this conversation. But even after I threatened you, you still tried to give me advice. What am I to you, Harry Peverell? If that’s even your real name. Perhaps you want to sabotage me. Or _maybe..._ you truly want to help me? I doubt you’re doing it to just be nice. So, _Harry,_ what’s your motive?”

By this point, the two students have returned to their previous position. Tom leaning down and Harry pressed against the bookshelves. “I...I don’t—”

“You can tell me the answer when you’re ready.” Tom pulls back and dusts off his robes, lips quirking up at the completely dumbfounded look on the other’s face. “You shouldn’t have to act ‘mysterious’ and ‘cold’ to impress me or make me believe you. I like this version of you much better.”

Harry frowns, eyes going back to their original guarded stance. He pushes himself off the bookshelf and follows Tom out of the little area, walking with him all the way to one of the tables. “What version would that be?”

“The version that wears loafers and doesn’t try to suppress his emotions,” Tom answers, pulling out a chair for both himself and Harry. He gestures to the seat and Harry tentatively takes a seat. “I think we should have our date now. For _real._ ”

Harry’s eyes widen once again. “What?”

Oh. He thought he was just going to invite Tom on a date, threaten him, and then get away scot-free? The budding psychopath-dark-lord-evil-murderer resists the urge to burst into laughter at Harry’s face. If he did, it would unsettle Harry even more. But unfortunately, they’re in the library with other people. So, he settles on grinning, wide and with all teeth. Harry jerks back in disgust. 

“That’s right. We’re going to have a date. You can’t just expect our little conversation to be a date. After all; didn’t you want to convince me? Well, what better way to do that than prove to me that you’re not lying? With the information I have already, we’ll be stuck here for hours! Now, Harry, why don’t you let loose a little?”

“I don’t...I just...Really? Here?” Harry sighs. “One day I’ll shove a pencil so far up your arse that you die from internal bleeding.”

“Delightful! Have you ever done that before? Tell me all about it!” Tom smiles widely again, even reaching out and grabbing Harry by the hands to disturb him. 

“ _Oh, Merlin._ ”

This is going to be fun. Emotionally manipulating a kid his age and making him uncomfortable at the same time! Maybe he’ll get Harry to slip up. But for now, he’ll simply relish the joys of making Harry squirm. 

~~_And maybe, just maybe, he’ll make him squirm in a different way in the future._ ~~


End file.
